


I Am Love

by mysterywoman (destironi)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, Financial Issues, Firsts, Flirting, Fluff, Gay Panic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Music, Plot Twists, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, Romance, Self-Harm, Singing, Slow Build, Smut, Substance Abuse, The Jackson 5 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destironi/pseuds/mysterywoman
Summary: At 20 years old, Draco, who was presumed dead to the Wizarding World as they knew, finds himself being ripped away from his special cocoon of self-made happiness and security, and for what? A couple million of his own galleons and a certain raven-haired boy? As if... or maybe... Godric help him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 1





	I Am Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever!! I've always loved this ship, so I decided to write something then actually post it!! Hope you like it, and please comment what you think!! I'm always for constructive criticism, unless you're just being mean. :( This fic was inspired by various songs by The Jackson 5, so each chapter is named after a different song, which is featured in the chapter, just so you know! ;)

### Who's Lovin' You?

#### Wednesday, May 9th, 2001

_Life without love, hah, is oh so lonely…_

“You're telling me-”

_I don't think, I don't think I'm gonna make it…_

"You'd be surprised Micheal," he sighed, stopping the record. 

Jackson 5 had become one of Draco's favorite bands after the war, one of his favorite bands in a world filled with hate. He just wanted an escape. An escape from all the negativity and hate that seemed to radiate from the Earth herself. No, he didn't hate anything. Couldn't hate anything. The war had completely drained him of hate. Now all he held was a vast emptiness that he sought to fill with this music. But this song in particular he couldn't stand listening to. It reminded him of something he would never have.

He sighed again, longingly, wishing he didn't have to leave his fortress of solitude. He wanted nothing more than to stay in his cocoon, void of any emotion at all, but no. He promised. Draco promised his mother he would go to Gringotts to solve an issue. Those _goblins_ have been pestering his mother about ownership of their vault. As if _his_ mother would give up their vault. _The day mother hands over the key is the day I marry a Hufflepuff!_ He laughed to himself. 

He apparated to Three Broomsticks, instantly feeling uneasy. He felt eyes pointed at him from all directions. Nose held high, confidence held together with a thread, he walked out of the small pub, eyes and dread following him. He tried to shrink. Make himself as small as he could. He casted a quick notice-me-not and felt pounds lifted from his quaking shoulders, though he still felt out of place. He wasn't meant to be here. Wasn't welcome. He needed to focus. He was here to visit his vault in Gringotts then he could apparate straight home to his flat above the muggle coffee shop. Gringotts, home, Gringotts, home. He couldn't help the creeping feel of anxiety spread through his chest, beneath his collar, making it suddenly tight. He couldn't help the feeling of watching eyes, making his hands clammy and his face blotchy. No, he would never belong here.

Stifling a panic attack, he rounded the last turn a little too fast and ran into another man who looked eager to leave. Coffee spilt down his robes and books fell to the snow. Swearing coming from lips that weren't his own. The feeling of shock overcoming panic had rooted him to the spot, spell long forgotten.

"Godric's missing left ball sack," the man whispered to himself, bending down to pick up the discarded books, never reaching his eyes, "I am so sorry sir, I am in a hurry to get out of this place, if you can't tell, I'll reimburse for the robes, just give me owling informat-"

"Harry James Potter."

"Huh?" He questioned, looking up to meet his eyes. He stayed crouched for a beat, looking dumbfoundedly up at him, then straightened himself. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, I'll be damned. I thought you were like a hermit or something. Or at least gone off and married some rich pureblood gal, I dunno."

"A hermit?" he squeaked. _Stupid stupid stupid… Should have never left the house. Oh no… I am a hermit!_

"Yeah maybe that's a little far fetched, you couldn't go without attention. You've probably just followed your greasy godfathers footsteps and spend every day hunched over a potion. Or maybe you _are_ a vampire like I've always suspected, you are very pale. Or maybe-" 

Draco just stood there. Rooted to the cobblestone walkway, jaw dropped to his chest while the Savior of England as it's known babbles schoolgirl stories about him. What was he supposed to do? Join in making stories about his sad life? And just when he thought his day could get any worse. 

“E-excuse me, Potter, but I really have to be going, I have an appointment at Gringotts I have to meet.” 

He tried walking around the wanker, but he just moved with him, still blocking his path. 

“Er, I really need to go-”

“Oh, of course, but Draco,” he caught his attention. Draco can't recall a time where their eye contact hasn’t been laced with mutual loathing, but this time it was strangely warm. 

“Stay in touch, stranger. Really. Half the wizarding world thinks you’re dead.” Harry said with a smile, then left Draco where he ran into him. 

Draco stood there for a beat, processing what had happened, then continued on his way. What a strange encounter. Potter seemed so grown up. So put together. It’s a shock, really. He had been sort of a mess back at school. Granted, the last time he saw the boy was in court, when he testified for Draco, but he really didn’t expect for him to have grown so much. He seemed so confident in his step and in his words. More confident than Draco has felt since his 4th year. All the anger and hostility started to rush back from its suppressed corner of his brain. He never fully understood why he despised the boy, he just had. But now he knew. He was so full of that confidence. So sure of himself. So sure that everything he did was perfect. And it seems he hasn't changed. Pathetic. At least the media seems to leave him alone now. Took 2 years, but they eventually forgot him. Not counting the occasional headline like _WHAT TYPE OF UNDERWEAR DOES THE SAVIOR RECOMMEND_ or _WHO'S THE GOLDEN BOY'S NEW MYSTERY WITCH?_ , just little trash articles when the journalists have nothing else to say.

Walking up to the large marble building, memories of Gringotts and its goblins flood his brain. The unpleasantness of it all leaves a bad taste in his mouth, and he hasn't yet entered the premises. He walked up the stairs, knees starting to go weak, to open the guarded golden doors to the entryway. The elegance of it always blew him away. How can these vile creatures produce something so pristine and immaculate? He walked through the entryway, eyeing each crystal chandelier, to the short desk at the end. There sat the ugliest goblin Draco has ever seen. He stopped short a few feet because he looked like he didn't smell the greatest, either. 

"How may I help you, Young Sir?" 

"I am here for an appointment regarding the expropriation of my family vault." 

"Your name and vault number, Sir?" 

"Draco Malfoy, vault number 687."

At the mention of his name, the goblin paused his writing and looked at Draco's forearm, then steely in his eyes. Heat started to spread through his face, not of anger, but of embarrassment. Of course his reputation with the goblins has been tarnished, too. 

"Ah, Mister Malfoy, we assumed you would show up eventually. Just didn't expect it to be this late." 

"Yes, well, get on with it, I don't have all day." He snapped, already over this goblin's cheek.

"Well, as you should know, as signed in a blood contract generations ago, only a true Malfoy can enter the vault. That includes born into and married into. Your mother has abandoned that name, taking her maiden name, Black, and therefore cannot access anything from vault number 687."

"What does that have to do with the liquidation of the vault? After my father passed, the vault should have gone, if not into my mother's, my name. I should be the one accessing the vault, not the Ministry." 

"According to the Ministry, your war crimes gave you liability to surrender your vault over to us." The goblin gave him a wicked smile. He was glad he was a few steps away because his teeth gave evidence of absolute stench. 

What did he hope to accomplish with that statement? If he were anyone else he would have given in and let the bank keep the vault. But this was his money. His family inheritance. He was not stepping down without a fight. Luckily, he was a Malfoy. 

"But it was not surrendered to you, now was it?" He said with an equally wicked smile. He laced his voice with the forgotten venom often used by his younger self. "If you think my father, Lucius Malfoy, did not inform me of the blood contract, you have been gravely mistaken. I know that in section 3, paragraph 7 it states clearly; _in a position where the vault has been procured by the Ministry or the Bank itself due to law, the current eligible heir shall be notified and given a chance to vindicate their possessions._ Now, I believe I have been cleared of all charges against me during the time of war, and have every right to my vault."

The goblin looked at him with firey hate in his eyes. They both knew of the Malfoy fortune. They both wanted the vault. But only one of them were going to get it in the end. And Draco has never been one to take kindly to losing. 

"Well then, Mister Malfoy. If you wish to enter your vault, you will need authorization from the judge who cleared your name, stating that you have, in fact, been cleared of all charges." 

Draco glared at the goblin. He was only trying to make things hard on him. Stupid clever creatures. 

"Fine. I will be back in, how about this upcoming Monday and I _will_ enter my vault. Good day." And on that note, Draco spun on his toe and walked out of there nose held high. He'd be damned if he let a goblin get the best of him. 

Out on the street, Draco let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He felt his heart start to race and the panic start to begin. How was he going to get the judges authorization? That judge was Percy Weasley! How would he even go about that? _Hello, sorry for being a prat to your brothers, but I want my money so can you tell the bank I'm a good person?_ He let out a small sob. He was, for once, at a loss on what to do. 

He made his way back to The Three Broomsticks. He wondered if people would ever look at him normally again. The feeling of watching eyes got old really fast. He found his way to the back of the pub, sat himself down in a secluded corner and laid his head in his hands. Just then Madam Rosmerta walked up.

"Is there anything I can get you, love?" He looked up from his hands. "Oh, Draco! How are you, darling, it's been ages."

Madam Rosmerta was one of the few people who didn't despise him to death. After the war he often found himself here, trying to drink the pain and memories away. Lucky for him Madam Rosmerta wasn't one for mass opinions. She liked to judge a character for herself. During one of his drunken slurs, he broke down and apologized for everything he did to her. Being the pure woman she is she didn't even bat an eyelash before forgiving him. She'd become a sort of safe spot for Draco. He'd talked to her and opened up to her in ways he didn't know possible. Sort of like an unpaid shrink. Suddenly he felt bad for disappearing for a few months without a word. 

"I've been okay, Rosie. Found a little flat in a cute muggle town in France. Adopted a cat." 

"Adopted a cat? You have cats!" 

"Well he sort of adopted me. He was there when I moved in and I got tired of shooing him away every hour." 

"That's lovely, dear, I'm so glad you've got some form of company," she laughed. "So darling, what brings you to town? Have you met a special someone?" 

"Financial issues," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "I wish I had met someone. Dealing with another person would be so much more ideal than goblins. After mum changed her name, they wouldn't let her in our vault, now they've taken it completely. Complete rubbish if you ask me. I told mum it'd be easier to leave her name but she insisted." 

"Oh dear, that is quite bad. What do you have to do about it?" 

"I have to get authorization from my stupid judge." He laid his head back down on his hands, missing the little twinkle in Rosies eyes. 

"Here's a suggestion, why don't you talk to Harry Potter, such a sweet heart that one is. He'd help you in a heartbeat." 

Draco rolled his eyes so hard he worried the people in the table over could hear him. Why has Potter weaved his way into his whole day? Why does the one day he leaves his little muggle village the day Harry Potter is the center of his attention. Arrogant git. 

"Yea, I'll consider it. I already ran into him once today. Literally. Anyway, I should get going, Rosie. It was great seeing you and I'll make more effort to write you. I am dreadfully sorry for the silence, I really will write more often."

"Oh goodie, I always love hearing from you, and know you are welcome any time regardless of what others think." She said the last part a little louder for wandering ears before pecking him on the cheek. He said his farewell and aparated home. Ah, home at last. 

"Atticus!" He called out, as he slipped his shoes off at the door. A small, grey, striped tabby cat hobbled his way out of the kitchen. Draco scooped him up on the way to the living room. "You will never believe the trying day I've had, Atticus." 

He proceeded to tell Atticus the earlier events of his day, all up to his catchup with Rosie. 

"What do _you_ think I should do?" 

The cat blinked at him. Draco worried his lip.

"You're right. It _would_ make my life easier to get in touch with Potter. I really don't want to, is the real problem. We've never gotten along and from what I've seen today I really don't think that will change. He's still a self entitled git, and I'd rather not have to deal with his stupid attitude. I've grown, Atticus, I am a new man." The cat blinked again." Okay fine, I'm sure I'm part of the problem, but I've seriously matured. He has not." Another blink received from the cat. "I know, I know! He's probably the only way I'll get the vault back, but it doesn't mean I hate him any less." He grumbled complaints as he got up and started to write a letter. 

  
  


_Potter,_

_Thanks for ruining my dress robes today, you can make it up by getting my vault back_

No, scrap that. 

_Potter,_

_You're still a stupid git, but I need your help since your power will get you anything._

No, no, even worse. 

_Potter,_

_If you will meet me for lunch at a restaurant of your choosing tomorrow for a business proposition, that will be greatly appreciated. Please get back to me as soon as possible, and waste no time._

_P.s. you still owe me for the coffee on my robes._

_Draco Malfoy_

Good enough. He tied the letter to the leg of his eagle owl and watched it fly away. He sat down in his chair, suddenly worried about Potter's response. Well, now all he had to do was wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Please comment what you thought, or any questions/ concerns!! If you enjoy this I will continue the story, but I also might not :/.


End file.
